Page 54 of A Heart Of Bitter Poison
Ispend most of the day alone once Bianca leaves. I’m not really in a sociable mood. Plus, I’m hungry. Like,really hungry, which has becomehangry. I take all that hanger out on the bathroom, scrubbing my bloody, confusing message from the mirror until it’s streak-free and gleaming.
I move on to tackle the wall with every cleaning product I can find. The smell of chemicals and fake fragrances burns my nostrils but it reminds me of Sanford, of the simple life I once had cleaning rooms at the Swan and playing Scrabble with Andy and cribbage with Peter and marveling at Bian’s ferocity. It makes me a little homesick, actually. They must be worried. I took off with some strange, broody, tattooed dude and haven’t come back. As far as they’re concerned, I’ve probably been murdered and left in some shallow grave somewhere, leaving a room of meager belongings behind. Even my epicRocketAppartmentoespresso machine is still there. Damn it.
These thoughts consume me so thoroughly that I don’t notice Ashen at the door until I turn to grab the spray from the counter. I catch sight of him in the now pristine mirror and startle a little, which he seems to find endearing, judging by that warmth in his face. I level him with a glare and turn back to the wall.
“Creeping again?”
“Bianca stopped by,” Ashen says. He takes a step into the bathroom and lays a strip of paper on the counter. “She found Valentina. We should leave tomorrow.”
I lean backwards and read Bianca’s flowery script. “Magura?.. Seriously?..Fuck.”
Ashen nods and I turn back to the wall and scrub it with renewed vigor. “When was the last time you were in Romania?”
“You already know the answer. When your idiot Reaper friends stole Vlad’s soul.”
There’s a long beat of silence where the only sound is the hard brush scraping at the wall. “Vlad was out of control,” Ashen says in a low and serious voice. “He was drawing attention to himself, killing far more than he needed to. You know as much as I do that he had to be stopped.”
My hand falls away from the wall and I turn slowly, red light consuming my pupils as I catch my own reflection. I cast my gaze to Ashen in the mirror.
“Were you there?”
“No, Lu. I wasn’t there and I wasn’t part of the decision to reap Vlad’s soul.”
We stare at one another for a long moment as I look for the truth in his eyes. I guess it shouldn’t matter anymore, it was so long ago. The Reapers that ambushed Vlad on that cold day in January have long since moved on to other prey, and Vlad’s spirit has been in their realm ever since. Somewhere.
I turn back to my task, glaring at the bloodstained plaster. “You sure are good at telling me all the things youdidn’tdo, Reaper,” I say, my gaze darting to meet his in the mirror. “I wonder if you’ll ever tell me about the awful things youdid.”
The silence stretches on between us. I scrub and scrub until I’m sure that Ashen is gone, and even then I keep going until the sun starts setting and my fingers are raw.
I eventually make it to the kitchen for a pre-hunt snack when I give up on those walls. I don’t think I can take another bland glass of rice cake blood, so I tinker in the cabinets until I find some Campari. I peel and chop a few oranges, chucking them with a bag of blood into the blender, humming to myself to the beat that I pulse. It isn’t until the bloody orange is mixed into a pulpy red froth that I realize I’m not alone. Davina watches with an attentive, curious gaze as I pour the mixture into the Campari and ice cubes waiting at the bottom of a tall glass.
“Hey,” I say. My voice comes out a little tentative even though I try to sound super chill and easygoing. “Want one?”
Davina’s nose crinkles with suspicion. “What is it?”
“Alcohol. My take on a drink called a Garibaldi. I shall call this version a Garibloody Cocktail,” I say with a theatrical flourish of my hands around the glass. Davina’s suspicion seems to only intensify. My jazz hands flutter out like I’m the worst magician of all time as I clear my throat and try to be less weird. “I can make you a traditional version if you like. Minus the gore, of course.”
Davina thinks on this for a moment. She lifts one shoulder. “That would be nice, thanks.”
I give her a swift smile and pour the leftover bloody juice into another tall glass, then rinse the jug in the sink. Silence stretches on over the sound of running water. Normally, I’d delight in a bit of awkwardness, but this time it’s just really lacking in thedelightpart.
“This must be very strange but exciting, so many different things to see and try for the first time,” I say, cringing a little as the words spill out of my mouth.
“I suppose,” she replies, clearly unconvinced. I feel my skin heat and resist the urge to climb into the freezer as I fish out more ice cubes. Okay, maybe that was a lame opener, but what the fuck am I supposed to say to her? It’s not like we’re gonna braid each other’s hair and argue about which movie Tom Cruise runs most aggressively in.
There are a few more long moments of silence as I pour a couple of shots of Campari into a glass. Then I add a splash more. Okay maybe one more shot. Then I top up my own with more liquor. Don’t judge me, I need it. If I’m destined to have an awkward conversation, I might as well fuel it with booze.
I grab some oranges and another knife and cutting board, passing them to Davina across the island. Putting her to work seems like a viable solution for diverting her attention away from me and my sudden inability to make small talk. Not that it really works. Her eyes keep darting up to mine as she slices the fruit with a deft hand. When she’s done, I blend it and fill her glass, handing it to her with a metal straw.
So what if I get a little satisfaction when she doesn’t stir it and coughs around a solid hit of straight Campari?
“Good?” I ask with an innocent smile.
“Uhh… yeah…”
I stir my drink and my grin widens just a bit before I take another sip. This woman is no idiot. She clocks it and gives a little smile, looking into her glass as she follows my lead before trying it again.
“So I’m going to assume you were looking for me specifically. Am I right?” I ask, holding her gaze as I step back and lean against the counter. Davina’s face turns stoic once more and she nods. “What can I do for you?”
